Shards on the Ground
by Yuaki1707
Summary: It had been a day like any other when the Italian's heart had been shattered for the final time. Romano centric. Rated T to be safe.


Shards on the Ground

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA AND THE COVER IMAGE!**

_Why can't you be like your brother?_

Romano couldn't remember how many times he had heard that line. He had always known that everyone loved his younger brother more, but he couldn't hate Feliciano for that. As the older twin, Romano was serious about protecting his brother, even if it meant putting himself in the background.

Feliciano was simply perfect...except for his lack of fighting skills (but no one seemed to care about that). He could clean, was well-mannered, handsome, kind, friendly, could cook and many had been added to the list as the centuries passed. The younger Italian simply couldn't do anything wrong and was loved by all his people, fellow nations and bosses.

As much as Romano wished he could hate his younger brother, it wasn't Feliciano's fault that he was so loved. The older Italian could remember when he was waiting for Grandpa Rome to play with him (like he had promised), he stumbled upon Feliciano cuddling in the larger nation's arms, as his grandfather spoke loving words to the child. They never played that day and Romano always hoped in the back of his mind, that someday his grandfather would say those loving words to him, like he had to Feliciano. However, the day never came and when the Roman Empire fell, so did Romano's hope for love.

Since then, he had always hid his emotions (except for anger) and protected his heart from pain. He only talked to people when needed (the only exception being his brother) and obeyed no one. When he was separated from his brother, the older Italian felt his heart being broken again. The only person he still cared for had been taken from him and the only happiness he had had in life.

Spain was a kind nation and treated Romano well, but the Italian still didn't trust the man. First, Antonio had tried to get the younger nation to clean, but it had failed miserably. He had tried to stop the boy from swearing, which had only resulted in insults and a frustrated Romano. One of the worst parts for Romano had been his uniform: a dress. He had tried so many times to get Spain to give him different clothes, but a 'no' had been his answer every time.

After so long, the Italian thought that maybe he should give love another chance. The Spaniard had been treating him kindly and let him eat all the tomatoes he wanted. The young nation never had to clean after his first few failed attempts and the tanned man had taken over that responsibility. Romano thought that maybe the Spaniard really cared about him, but he had been wrong. He remembered hiding from his caretaker's sight, only to hear Spain ask to trade him for his brother; the younger brother who was perfect and actually cleaned and would listen to Spain. The older Italian ran with tears in his eyes, hoping that he hadn't been noticed.

Romano stayed with Spain for years and had grown to like the nation a bit more, but he never forgot what the older nation had said behind his back. After hiding in his room for a few months, refusing to even talk one word to Spain (not even an insult), he decided to give the nation another chance. The Spaniard tried to make it up to him (although Spain had never understood what he had done wrong in the first place), letting him eat countless tomatoes and letting the boy have a new wardrobe (with no dresses).

A few more years passed and the insults continued, but now, Romano didn't mind calling the Spaniard by his human name (only when he was in a good mood). He secretly enjoyed listening to Antonio playing the guitar and humming a tune to accompany the instrument's sound. They had become friends (although the Italian would never admit it) and Antonio was able to put up with him, even with all the insulting, hitting and tomato stealing.

Although Romano had promised himself never to love, he couldn't explain his feelings towards the Spaniard in any other way. Antonio seemed to be the only one to tolerate the Italian and had shown him unlimited kindness. He loved everything from the nation's bright smile to his (slightly annoying) laugh (fusososo). Romano had tried a few times to tell the older nation of his feelings, but always backed out. He wasn't supposed to love and he always had this feeling in his heart that he would be rejected.

He had told himself that being around the Spaniard so much would be enough for him, but as time went by, it became unsatisfactory. He wanted to kiss Antonio and wake up in the same bed. He wanted to see those emerald eyes every day and be told that he was loved. Sometimes, Romano wished that he could let himself love and be honest, but he knew that he would be met with heartbreak.

It had been a day like any other when the Italian's heart had been shattered for the final time. Romano had finished visiting his brother earlier than he had thought and heard a few voices from the living room when he came back to the Spaniard's home. He quickly noticed the German and French accents and knew that the Bad Touch Trio was having their monthly get together. He quietly dropped his car keys on the kitchen counter and was about to head upstairs when he heard his name being mentioned in the trio's conversation. Curiosity got the better of Romano and the Italian quickly sneaked closer to the living room door. The three nations were pretty loud, which meant that they didn't hear the Italian arrive and that Romano had no trouble creeping closer to the door and listen into their conversation.

His eyes widened and he stifled a gasp to remain unknown as he listened to the words that were spoken about him. _Annoying, rude, troublesome, messy, brat. _The Italian had heard these words often before, but they had never felt this heartbreaking. It wasn't because of the words or the people who said it; no, it was because the one person who he thought actually accepted and liked him (except for Feliciano, of course) didn't deny any of these words that the other two nations (well, one nation and one former nation) were saying about him. Romano decided that he had heard enough and quickly grabbed the keys that he had tossed on the counter earlier and raced to his car. Tears were threatening to spill and Romano was hoping he would last until his destination before the tears would escape.

_Why did I think he was different? Why did I ever think that he would love me? I should have stopped trying to give love another chance once it broke my heart the first time._

The Italian drove towards the airport, ready to book a flight to the home of a person he could actually call his friend and knew that they would help him. It would take a few hours to fly there, but he didn't care. The only thing Romano could think about was escaping the place he had called home for so long, only to discover that he wasn't welcomed there.

He knocked on the wooden door and waited for someone to allow him entry into the house. It was the middle of the night and he felt slightly guilty for waking his friend at such an hour, but his mind had been too occupied with avoiding the Spaniard that he hadn't thought about much else. The door opened and a tired looking Belgium stared at her unannounced guest. Once she realised who was standing on her porch, the blond quickly invited Romano inside and led him to one of the guest rooms. It was rare that Romano came to her, but she knew that he hated to talk about his problems. So, like the good friend Belgium was, she gave the Italian a place to stay and never asked him what was bothering him. He usually never stayed longer than a week and would always leave a bouquet of flowers in her kitchen as a thank you for helping him.

Romano had quickly collapsed on the bed and drifted off to sleep, letting his tears finally flow. He would think about everything tomorrow, when he would hopefully be able to think more clearly. He had already fallen asleep when the phone in his jeans pocket went off and a text from a worried Antonio arrived. When he found the text in the morning, he deleted it, without even glancing at what the other nation had written. The Italian quickly fixed the bed (something he only did for Belgium, as another thank you for her kindness in these situations) and made his way down the familiar streets to the flower shop. He quickly bought a bouquet and left them in the usual place in Belgium's house before he made his way back to the airport and booked himself a flight to Italy.

He had made his decision; from now on, he would live with his younger brother and only talk with the Spaniard when necessary (with which Romano meant world meetings and anything concerning his country). Feliciano welcomed him with open arms and was happy to have his brother with him again. The older twin couldn't help but smile and hug his brother. He didn't want to think about his broken heart anymore, but he knew that it wasn't over. He only hoped that when he had to see Antonio again, that his heart wouldn't shatter yet again, because he didn't want to pick up the shards again.


End file.
